Brute In Brass

by Harry Whittington

  I leaned across her and picked up her drink. “It’s getting late,” I said. “You better finish this, Mrs. Walker. Then I’ll take you home.”

  She looked grateful, and then didn’t want to refuse the drink. It was like quail in a chicken run. She held her breath again, tilted her head back and I watched her throat work as she swallowed it.

  And then I was in trouble. It had happened when I leaned across her. I was careful, I didn’t touch her. No matter what I knew about Peggy Walker, she didn’t know it about herself. She was a housewife, and that was all she knew. I could have scared her to death, just by reaching for her.

  It was the smell of her hair. There were plenty of things in my life I would not remember, but one memory I could not escape—the first girl I’d ever known, and the scent of her hair. I thought then that with any other woman, there’d be something missing, and that would be that delicious aching-sweet moment when I buried my face in her hair.

  I sank back on that couch, looking at Peggy Walker, wanting her. It happened that fast and that terribly. If it never happened to you like that, count yourself among the lucky, and God how I pity you. That’s the way it happened to me, and I looked at Peggy and knew everything I wanted was there, the ankles, the breasts, the smell of her hair.

  I could even see how it would be. I could remember the way I had been when I was a kid, with that first girl. I could bury my face in the warm scent of her hair, and there was no one in the world but us.

  It could be like that now. I could forget the police commissioner and his graft investigation, and Luxtro and the wheels turning inside his head while he made up his mind whether to warn off the commissioner or throw me to the wolves. And Hilma with her demands, and her cottage talk. God, I needed to get all those things out of my mind.

  I watched her shaking her head, trying to clear it. That second drink really slugged her.

  In that moment I knew two things. I could push her over on that couch, and when it was over I could put her out and never give her another thought.

  Or I could be smart. If I touched her now, she’d be petrified with fear, but she wasn’t going to say no. She wanted me to help her husband, falling back on this couch was just one of the things she’d do to get that help. But when it was over, it would have meant nothing.

  I looked at her and I knew that if I ever got Peggy Walker to come to me, and say she wanted me, there would be something then that no two people on earth had ever had before. It would singe the cool corners of hell.

  And I knew something else. I’d go right into the hottest part of hell to have her come to me like that for a little while.

  The telephone rang. The sound was raucous and shrill in that quiet room. I did not move.

  “Your telephone,” Peggy said.

  “Let it ring. It does that all the time.”

  “It might be important.”

  “No.”

  It went on ringing. Peggy put her hands against her ears to shut out the sound. I lay there on the couch, looking at the way her breasts were pulled up taut when she lifted her arm like that. I counted the rings. The phone rang twenty times and then it stopped. The silence was abrupt and for a while breathless.

  “What do you think I could do?” I said.

  “What?” She turned, looking at me.

  “For your husband. What do you think I could do for him?”

  Her mouth parted. She had not expected to hear me even suggest I would. She had come because Earl told her to, and all she hoped was to carry back my answer, so Earl would know that she had not deserted him.

  She took a deep breath. “You’d have to go back over everything,” she said. “Right from the first.”

  “That would be tough. It’s been almost a year.”

  “Yes. And the police covered everything. But there would be one difference, Mr. Ballard. They believed Earl was guilty. I don’t say they were not honest in their belief, but it colored everything they did. If you were to start, believing Earl innocent, you’d find out a lot of different things. You might even—find out the truth.”

  I didn’t tell her that I couldn’t do that. I didn’t believe Walker innocent. I didn’t see how he could be. But I could grin to myself about one thing. Walker was in that death house because he had never known what he had right at home. I was going to handle her carefully, be cagey, and I was going to have her. For the moment that was all I wanted.

  “It won’t be easy,” she said. “And I can’t pay you very much. I work. I’ll pay you something every week. But it won’t be much. I tried to tell Earl that. I tried to tell him you had no reason for helping us.”

  I breathed in deeply. “Maybe I’ll do it anyway.”

  She sagged as if this were a bigger shock than being refused would have been.

  She buried her face in her hands. I saw her shoulders quiver. She didn’t make a sound.

  “Come on,” I said. “I better take you home now.”

  Her head came up slowly. She glanced around at me, and I saw what she thought of me, all right. She’d been pretty sure of the payment I wanted, and she had made up her mind to make the first installment here tonight.

  I was pretty low in her book. That was for sure. She didn’t have the faith in me that her husband had. She was more like me; she had no faith at all.

  This girl had stopped believing in anything when she found out about Ruby Venuto.

  I stood up, held her coat for her. She slipped into it. I said, “I may also prove beyond any doubt that Earl did kill Ruby. What then?”

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve thought about that.” She turned, looking at me. “I know Earl is innocent. But maybe what’s important is that I can tell him, and that he’ll know he isn’t forgotten. That—well, right up to the last, we’ll be working for him. He needs that, Mr. Ballard. He needs that terribly.”

  “Yes,” I said. “We all need something, don’t we?”

  She’d taken her pocket book from me and turned toward the front door. I saw her hesitate, waiting. I didn’t say anything. I plopped my hat back on my head, opened the front door for her, watched her walk through it.

  Sure I did. I could be hasty or I could be smart. I knew what I wanted, knew how I wanted it, knew what I was going to have if I played it cagey.

  I was going to play it cagey.

  Chapter Six

  I used up a bottle of rye the next day. I told myself to get her out of my mind and forget the whole damned business. All I had to do was call her on the phone, say I’m too busy.

  At six o’clock Tuesday I told myself I could smell her still in the place. I knew this was a lie. But I knew something else. It wasn’t going to let me alone.

  I had to laugh at myself. I took a hot shower, a cold shower, shaved, got the stink of rye out of me. I spent thirty minutes getting dressed.

  I was knotting my tie and trying to figure a compromise. Hell, if I pretended to look into the case, it would give me the excuse I needed to drop in over there all the time. I stared at myself, remembering the brown of her eyes, the shaft of iron in her. Here was a girl who wouldn’t buy anything counterfeit. That was when the telephone rang.

  I sat in my easy chair, and let it ring six or seven more times. Just when it began to sound loud and futile, I lifted the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “From the sound of that sweet greeting, this couldn’t be anybody but Hilma.”

  “It is Hilma, damn you. Where have you been?”

  “Been taking a shower.”

  “I called you last night. I called you ten times last night.”

  “You must have been dialing the wrong number.”

  “Damn you. I dialed the same number I dialed this time. I got you this time. Why didn’t you answer before?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I’ve been busy. Things are a little rugged right now.”

  “That’s too bad, Mike. I’m sorry. And I pick this time to be more shrewish than ever.
”

  “You’re not shrewish.”

  “I am, Mike. But it’s only because I love you.”

  “Did you have a good time at the art exhibit?”

  “All right. I had a headache.”

  “Sorry. I hope it’s better.”

  “No. It’s worse.”

  “Tell you what, baby. Why don’t you take three aspirin and go to bed, early.”

  “Mike.”

  “I know how a headache can hit you. I’ll forgive you this time.”

  “Mike, I don’t want you to forgive me. I’ll be all right. By the time you get here it’ll be gone.”

  “No. You’d just be miserable.”

  She caught her breath. “Is that what you mean, Mike? Or do you mean that I’d make you miserable, and you’d rather not come?”

  “I mean what I said. You’d have to pretend to be interested in me—”

  “Mike, stop—”

  “—and all the time your headache would be killing you.”

  “Mike, I haven’t got a headache. It doesn’t hurt at all. Mike, listen to me. You make me sound frantic. Mike, it’s been one week. One whole week. What’s the matter, Mike? You haven’t even wanted me.”

  “That’s not quite accurate. I wanted you. But you were afraid I’d muss your hair, make you look tired and you had a date with the Sunday school teacher.”

  “That’s it, isn’t it, Mike? You’re angry because I went out with Donald, had supper with him—” She stopped.

  “Oh? Supper too? And you with such a headache.”

  “Mike.” Her voice broke. She was crying. “Mike, I tried to get rid of him. He wouldn’t go. Oh, God, I don’t love anyone but you. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

  “Looks like even that doesn’t matter, much.”

  “Mike, not over the telephone. Please. Come to see me, Mike. I can make everything all right, if you’ll just come to see me.”

  “Sorry, baby. Not tonight.”

  “Mike, if you don’t come over here, I’ll come over there. I’ve told you I’m sorry about Don. It’s all a mistake. It means nothing. But I can’t tell you—not on the telephone. I’ll be nice, Mike. You never knew how nice I could be.”

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you call your friend? You could—uh—study your lessons together.”

  “Mike. Stop. All right. You’re mad. I admit you’ve a right to be mad. But how long are you going to torture me like this? I’ve said I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t see him again, Mike, if you say so.”

  “Why should I say so? What right have I to say?”

  She was silent a long time. I heard her breathe heavily. “You’ve every right, Mike. I was jealous, and mad, and I was trying to get even.”

  “And now you’ve got a headache.”

  “Mike, please come over. Just a little while? I won’t be foolish. All I’ll say is this, you—can have what you want, Mike, or I won’t say any more about it, if you will come over and have a drink. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Yes?”

  “Not over the phone, Mike.”

  “If it’s important enough, I might stop by.”

  “It is important, Mike.” She breathed in again. “It’s about Penny’s Christmas. Should I just buy her something and— let her stay at the school? Would you like that best, Mike?”

  “You want her home?”

  The silence was longer. “Come over, and we’ll talk about it.”

  “I can’t imagine anything I’d rather talk about less.”

  “Mike.”

  “Look, Hilma. You’re a big girl. You make up your own mind. You want Penny home, have her home. I won’t drop over during Christmas. I’d hate to embarrass you. Maybe you could invite Gilmore up. That sounds respectable as hell.”

  “Oh, Mike. My head is killing me.”

  “I told you. Three aspirin and go to bed.” I hung up.

  The silence was chilled for a moment in the apartment. I went on sitting there. After a minute, the phone started ringing again. I let it ring. It was still ringing when I walked out.

  The Walker apartment wasn’t much. It was on the third floor rear in a frame building. It had a back porch that ran the width of the building and was served by an outside stairway. The garbage cans for the building were lined up on the back porches beside the stairs.

  I knocked on her door. I saw a small light burning in a reading lamp. This girl was conserving even electricity. She wasn’t living at all with Earl up in the pen.

  She was storing up a lot of explosive. I hoped I was around when the fuse was lighted.

  She opened the door. She wore a dollar-ninety-eight basement frock that had the life washed out of it.

  She looked about her apartment apologetically when I walked in. She just let her face apologize for her.

  She motioned for me to sit on the divan. She sat in a straight chair but this frock wouldn’t quite break over her knees. She sat there, chewing at her underlip.

  I let my gaze move over her, liking her better than ever, feeling that need burning brighter than before.

  “You don’t have it easy with him up there, do you?” The sympathy in my voice was a little thick, but this was no time for subtlety.

  She hardly heard me. Her mind was on something else. “Did you—find out anything—worth-while?” she said.

  I laughed. “Well, not very much. It’s been only one day, Mrs. Walker. Remember, a whole squad of cops worked on this thing. What I came over here for was to get you to kind of go over it with me. Maybe there’s an angle. At least that’s what I’m looking for.” I smiled again.

  She didn’t even see my smile. “What do you want me to do?” she said.

  “I’d like you to tell me just what you remember about the case. The things that impressed you. Maybe something you thought the cops should have investigated a little deeper and they didn’t; something like that.”

  “I hardly know where to begin.” She touched at her lips with her tongue, and I thought again about how it was going to be.

  “You don’t look comfortable,” I said. “Why don’t you rome over here. I won’t hurt you.”

  She looked at me, and smiled weakly. “I’m sure you won’t.” She’d revised her estimate of me since last night. I could feel the smiling start inside me.

  She walked over and sat on the couch beside me. Her skirt hiked then. There was nothing she could do about it. She ignored it. But I didn’t.

  “You’re a beautiful woman to be living alone like this.”

  She smiled at that. “Thanks for trying to cheer me up, Mr. Ballard. You don’t have to. I know how plain I am. I was lucky to get Earl. I guess I was lucky to have him as long as I did.”

  “He says you’re afraid of the dark.”

  She smiled, sighed. “I was. At first. I got used to it. There was so much terror. Darkness lost its power to frighten me. I don’t know now what would frighten me.” She smoothed at her skirt. “You don’t want to talk about me. What do you want me to tell you?”

  “Anything.” I shrugged.

  “Poor Earl was a good guy who took one false step, Mr. Ballard.”

  “Venuto. Quite a step. I used to arrest her, when we were both younger.”

  She looked at me, frowning. “You know she wasn’t any good.”

  “Sure.”

  “Then you must know that she must have had a lot of men besides Earl. The police didn’t even look for anybody.”

  “They didn’t have to. They had Earl, remember. He was found wandering around in a daze near Ruby’s apartment the night she was killed.”

  “Poor Earl.”

  I reached over, covered her hand in mine. It was like ice.

  “Poor you,” I said. “You’re the one I’m sorry for. He put the cap on it. You’re the one who has to do the suffering.”

  That should have made her weep for herself. That should have put her head against my shoulder.

  She did not move her
hand, but she didn’t cry either. She had cried out all her tears a long time ago. And besides, there was that will of iron. I’d underestimated this girl.

  “In the investigation, was there anything that you didn’t like?”

  “No. Only that they were so sure Earl did it. They just let anybody else get away. They could have at least questioned the men she knew. Don’t you think so?”

  “But other than that. You have no complaint about the investigation?”

  “No. They certainly were thorough. I think they had three or four men doing the same thing.”

  “They were checking,” I said. “No matter what Earl believes, nobody in the police department was trying to railroad him.”

  “They beat him, Mr. Ballard. They say they don’t do things like that. But they beat him.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder, carefully. I patted her. “They had what they wanted on him, Mrs. Walker. See, they worked hard, they had their case. Earl was kind of cocky. They wanted him to go along with what they knew to be true.”

  “You’re kind to worry about me, Mr. Ballard.”

  Kind? Hell, I was anything but kind.

  “Since you’re going to help,” she said, “I wish you could believe as I do. I mean just tell yourself over and over that Earl is innocent. That’s what I had to do—for a long time at the first I made myself do that, over and over. If you believed, Mr. Ballard, you’d see things differently. Believe me. I know. That’s what happened to me.”

  I tightened the pressure of my hand, just slightly. “I’ll try to do that.”

  She touched my leg, parted it. Her icy fingers seared the place they touched.

  “I know you will. I didn’t sleep last night, Mr. Ballard. I had to reverse everything I’d ever believed about detectives, after I met you. I believe in you now, like I believe in Earl.”

  She got up and I was conscious of physical chill when she went away from me.

  She stood there, looking down at me. “There’s just one difference. Earl’s weak, and you’re strong. You’re going to be able to help him when he couldn’t help himself.”